[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Material CONtinuum (Open)
Nov 26, 2022 20:15:23 GMT -5
Post by Starkrieger on Nov 26, 2022 20:15:23 GMT -5
Episode: 3.5 Week 1 | Day 3 - Early evening
Starting in the Mess Hall, heading outside.
Despite a mild setback, he was feeling better.
Well… physically.
Accommodating rows of tables, and haphazardly abandoned seats, the mess hall was one of the larger rooms within Blackridge.
Much had been done to improve it, but the low amber lighting, and thick 'adequately circulated' air was not enough. It remained tight, cramped... a trap buried beneath layers of rock... and yet, the space was adequate.
Leaning against a table, a mostly black and white Seeker swirled the remnants of his rations. A set of primary wings stood aloft, the white of their leading edge easily marking the angle. Despite their position, he wasn't in good spirits, mind far from the cheerless room, his derma tightly pressed as he dwelled on the current situation.
Megatron’s return should have been his primary concern. The warlord's words days prior had not been forgotten, nor had the fact that he knew nothing of the Decepticon 'supreme leader'... beyond rumor and public appearance. Assisting the Spymaster, getting roped into Backbeat's supply acquisition, not to mention the tasks his Lord had assigned him, all risked the loss of a precious cloak of anonymity. Yet, what choice did he have going forward?
A pause as his vents released, a strained hiss gave voice to pressure that had built with held intakes. Tipping his cube, he observed its contents collecting at an edge. As it was, regardless of what thoughts Megatron evoked, there was another matter that took precedent. Knock Out was still missing. The only recourse was to press the likely culprits. Whether it was the Bots or Mech… that required leaving the base. Besides, he was restless.
The gathered energon was lightly sloshed as tense wings twitched. He would have to do something, regardless of future implication, so his attention moved outward. Red optics narrowed as they landed on someone shiny, and inarguably ‘pretty’. An optic ridge raised as his gaze followed the flow of sleek, curved lines along a 'diminutive' frame.
Grounder, low armor rating, light, built for speed.
The predominantly blacks and whites were muted, much as the desaturated purples. Not as flashy as Knock Out, but eloquent. The color scheme wouldn't hold attention, while the underlying beauty of form would allow him to go unnoticed by those that might sneer at... less 'aesthetic' models.
A slow smirk pulled at his faceplate. Always going out alone hardly made sense. Who was to say that an opportunity wouldn’t arise where having a 'city friendly' alt would be beneficial?. Besides, it seemed fitting to pick a grounder that was a looker to stir up trouble on the CMO’s behalf. Surely Knock Out would want it that way.
It was time to act.
With the cube in one servo, the Seeker settled the other on the tabletop to push off. Having never encountered nor even heard of Windshield, Starkrieger approached with no idea of what he was getting himself into. He resisted the urge to loop behind as was often a Seeker's instinct, making it easier for the mech to catch sight of him as he drew near. Bold with his lack of concern, he angled his wings towards his target, chassis drawn up in what could be seen as a blatant sign of interest. It 'just so happened' to conveniently align his sensors to better take in his fellow Decepticon.
Krieg was on the shorter end of the Seeker norm, making their difference in stature not as evident as it might be. Yet, it was there, prompting him to keep close tabs until he knew he wouldn't become hostile. It was the small ones that were harder to track, harder to press his advantage on. Stopping close, just far enough to be respectful, his optics dimmed faintly. It was his armed side that had the free servo, putting the mounted missiles on full display as he settled his left servo at his hip, tapping a claw tip against the plating in a sharp click in hope of catching the mech’s attention (unless he had already generously granted it). If Windshield obliged him, Starkrieger’s helm would turn ever so subtly to favor an optic, side-eying the grounder. Either way, if he didn't spook the mech, he would address him.
“This lighting does you little justice, Schönling." Suggestion dipped into the compliment, playful without the sting of degradation. Usually, he would have allowed the words to linger, to grant himself time to enjoy the other’s reaction. It was the initial response that suggested what kind of game would be the most amusing; however, Krieg had a different priority. “ I don’t suppose you would like an excuse to leave base?“
Starting in the Mess Hall, heading outside.
Despite a mild setback, he was feeling better.
Well… physically.
Accommodating rows of tables, and haphazardly abandoned seats, the mess hall was one of the larger rooms within Blackridge.
Much had been done to improve it, but the low amber lighting, and thick 'adequately circulated' air was not enough. It remained tight, cramped... a trap buried beneath layers of rock... and yet, the space was adequate.
Leaning against a table, a mostly black and white Seeker swirled the remnants of his rations. A set of primary wings stood aloft, the white of their leading edge easily marking the angle. Despite their position, he wasn't in good spirits, mind far from the cheerless room, his derma tightly pressed as he dwelled on the current situation.
Megatron’s return should have been his primary concern. The warlord's words days prior had not been forgotten, nor had the fact that he knew nothing of the Decepticon 'supreme leader'... beyond rumor and public appearance. Assisting the Spymaster, getting roped into Backbeat's supply acquisition, not to mention the tasks his Lord had assigned him, all risked the loss of a precious cloak of anonymity. Yet, what choice did he have going forward?
A pause as his vents released, a strained hiss gave voice to pressure that had built with held intakes. Tipping his cube, he observed its contents collecting at an edge. As it was, regardless of what thoughts Megatron evoked, there was another matter that took precedent. Knock Out was still missing. The only recourse was to press the likely culprits. Whether it was the Bots or Mech… that required leaving the base. Besides, he was restless.
The gathered energon was lightly sloshed as tense wings twitched. He would have to do something, regardless of future implication, so his attention moved outward. Red optics narrowed as they landed on someone shiny, and inarguably ‘pretty’. An optic ridge raised as his gaze followed the flow of sleek, curved lines along a 'diminutive' frame.
Grounder, low armor rating, light, built for speed.
The predominantly blacks and whites were muted, much as the desaturated purples. Not as flashy as Knock Out, but eloquent. The color scheme wouldn't hold attention, while the underlying beauty of form would allow him to go unnoticed by those that might sneer at... less 'aesthetic' models.
A slow smirk pulled at his faceplate. Always going out alone hardly made sense. Who was to say that an opportunity wouldn’t arise where having a 'city friendly' alt would be beneficial?. Besides, it seemed fitting to pick a grounder that was a looker to stir up trouble on the CMO’s behalf. Surely Knock Out would want it that way.
It was time to act.
With the cube in one servo, the Seeker settled the other on the tabletop to push off. Having never encountered nor even heard of Windshield, Starkrieger approached with no idea of what he was getting himself into. He resisted the urge to loop behind as was often a Seeker's instinct, making it easier for the mech to catch sight of him as he drew near. Bold with his lack of concern, he angled his wings towards his target, chassis drawn up in what could be seen as a blatant sign of interest. It 'just so happened' to conveniently align his sensors to better take in his fellow Decepticon.
Krieg was on the shorter end of the Seeker norm, making their difference in stature not as evident as it might be. Yet, it was there, prompting him to keep close tabs until he knew he wouldn't become hostile. It was the small ones that were harder to track, harder to press his advantage on. Stopping close, just far enough to be respectful, his optics dimmed faintly. It was his armed side that had the free servo, putting the mounted missiles on full display as he settled his left servo at his hip, tapping a claw tip against the plating in a sharp click in hope of catching the mech’s attention (unless he had already generously granted it). If Windshield obliged him, Starkrieger’s helm would turn ever so subtly to favor an optic, side-eying the grounder. Either way, if he didn't spook the mech, he would address him.
“This lighting does you little justice, Schönling." Suggestion dipped into the compliment, playful without the sting of degradation. Usually, he would have allowed the words to linger, to grant himself time to enjoy the other’s reaction. It was the initial response that suggested what kind of game would be the most amusing; however, Krieg had a different priority. “ I don’t suppose you would like an excuse to leave base?“